Two Weeks With Hibari Kyouya
by shinrabansho01
Summary: TYL. NYC. “I appreciate the wake-up call, but did you really have to use those?” “What else could I have done?” Hibari asked, as if waking people up with tonfas was the most normal act in the world. Or wait, maybe it was, for Hibari, at least.
1. Vongola In New York

**Two Weeks With Hibari Kyouya  
**_By: Shinra Bansho  
_  
_Disclaimer: Characters belong to their respective owners. This is a fan-created story._

_Note: For those that find that there are quotation marks missing from the last half, my apologies._

_For some odd reason, they disappeared when I uploaded them onto .  
_

_*~*~*~*~*_

Tsuna was sitting at the wooden desk, leaning over a stack of files and looking as uncertain as he usual. Yamamoto was standing between the desk and the door, scratching his neck.

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.  
_  
The large grandfather clock seemed particularly loud that day. _Were the hands even moving?_

It was already twenty past eleven at night, and Yamamoto's back was aching from the day's strenuous events. The Shigurekintoki on his back was sagging, as if to share the fatigue.

Tsuna let out a dejected sigh, and made a move to stand up.

"I guess we'll just have to start without Hi-"

A large squeak, followed by a thud and Tsuna jumped in surprise. He raised his head with wide eyes.

Yamamoto shook his head and glanced over his shoulder to see Hibari standing in the doorway, looking as expressionless as always.

"Hibari-san! You're here, thank god. I thought that maybe you didn't get the message," said Tsuna, a look of great relief crossing his face.

"I had things to take care of," was Hibari's short reply. He neither gave a glance at the clock, or apologized for being twenty minutes late to the meeting. He just silently came to stand in line with Yamamoto, though far enough to the side of the room that he avoided 'herding' with them.

Tsuna seemed to take Hibari's silence as a sign to begin the meeting, and cleared his throat.

"First of all, great work on your last missions. Yamamoto, you were with Gokudera-kun in Rome, and Hibari-san, you were in Japan. We were able to get the information we needed." He beamed, and pointed at the stack of papers on the desk. "I'll send them to Fuuta later to analyze."

Tsuna's face turned a little grave after a short pause.

"I hate to bring up a new mission right off the bat, but I need the two of you to look into something. I would send someone else, but they're all away right now, and Gokudera-kun needs to recover from the injuries he got in Rome."

Yamamoto winced mentally, as he remembered his last mission. "Yeah, it'll probably take a few weeks to fully heal."

Tsuna nodded. "We got news from Irie that someone or something is trying to hack into the Vongola system. Of course, our system is heavily secured, so it can't be broken into so easily, but whoever it is, it's probably not an ally. Irie started getting the signals nearly three months ago, and it's taken him until now to wring out information about it."

"What did he find out?" asked Yamamoto, furrowing his brows.

"Well, it seems that their security isn't as strong as ours, so with the proper tracking, Irie was able to work out an indefinite location."

Yamamoto grinned. "That's our Irie,"

"Yeah, it's indefinite though, so we can't be for sure, but it's the only lead we've got. We need to check it out before they really find a way to hack in. Even though our system is tough, it's not impenetrable, so we can't let our guard down."

Of course, that was true. Vongola was very distinct, in the sense that they integrated technology into their work. They relied on storing their information in large computer bases that Irie and Giannini took care of, while the rest of them were out doing the physical half. If something had happened to their system - if information was leaked out, then any number of horrific things could happen. It was inevitable.

"The first and only signal we got came from New York."

Yamamoto blinked. "New York?"

Tsuna bit his lip. "Well, like I said, it's indefinite. They could have been using a cover, but we can't take any chances. We need someone to go check things out."

"Of course."

"I would like to assign the two of you to the mission."

"It hardly sounds like something you'd need two people to get done." It was the first time Hibari had spoken up. Yamamoto cocked his head to look at him. "Why not just send Yamamoto alone? He seems eager enough."

"You know I can't send him alone, Hibari-san. I never send anyone alone on missions, unless I can be sure that it's safe. Of course I'll hope that it's nothing serious, but if it is..." Tsuna paused, a pleading look in his eyes. "I know you must be tired, Hibari-san. I'm really sorry to have to ask this of you."

Yamamoto made a gesture towards Tsuna. "Come on, Hibari. It's just a little digging around. It'll be easy."

The corner of Hibari's mouth twitched, ever so slightly.

"And look, how can you refuse Tsuna when he's looking like that?" he chuckled.

"Yamamoto!" Tsuna exclaimed, cheeks just a shade redder. "I'm being serious here."

There was a silence as the two looked to Hibari for any sign of agreement or assent. There came none.

Yamamoto sighed. "Okay, I know that you don't necessarily like me or _herding_ with people, but if Vongola's system gets hacked into, you'll be in trouble too, right?"

"I really just need you to check things out over there. See if the information wasn't a hoax, and if it wasn't, what these people want out of this. That's all."

"I'll buy you a bottle of Japanese sake if you go with me," grinned Yamamoto. "The really good kind. Fifty-thousand yen."

He barely caught the snort Hibari issued under his breath. "That's not _good_."

Yamamoto frowned. "Fine. A hundred thousand?"

"More like it."

"Great, then it's settled!" said Yamamoto, turning back to Tsuna. "When are we off?"

Tsuna, his smile stretching from ear to ear, clasped his hands together with glittering eyes.

"Well, the earlier the better. The earliest flight I can book is tomorrow, if you're okay with that. I'm looking at a stay of two weeks at the longest, but if things get cleared up before that, then I'll book an early return flight."

"Sounds good to me."

"I'll get Gokudera-kun to arrange the accomodations, and send the details to your room later so that you can look it over before tomorrow," Tsuna set the papers onto the desk with a plop. "Make sure to get as much rest as you can."

Hibari didn't say another word as he turned to leave first. As Yamamoto made to follow him out, he grabbed the doorknob and halted.

"Oh, by the way, Tsuna," he said, smiling innocently. "I recommend a sake called 'Fuugetsuyama'. Pops was only able to get a hold it once for the shop. It'll make Hibari really happy."

Saying that, he hurried out, hearing a bang behind him, which was probably Tsuna falling over in shock.

"_Yamamoto!!_"

* * *

The following day, Yamamoto was striding into Narita with his duffle bag dangling off of his shoulder. His Shigurekintoki was sealed inside a special bamboo case designed by Giannini that would enable him to be take it on the plane as a carry-on item, without getting caught in the metal detector.

Major props to Giannini and his crazy, yet genius creations.

For once, Hibari was there on time, but he looked so disgruntled about being surrounded by people, people, and more people, that Yamamoto kept casting worried glances at him, in fear that he'd start lashing out at the nearest innocent passerby.

He prayed that Hibari would keep his tonfas tucked inside his sleeves until they got on the plane. At least onboard, they would have the business-class seats to themselves, curtained off and undisturbed save for the occasional offer of alcohol, which he was sure Hibari would not refuse.

Hibari, walking slightly ahead of him, was dressed in similar garb as himself, but unlike him, was pulling a smart, black suitcase which suited him quite well. Everything about Hibari seemed meticulous in comparison. Where Yamamoto was rough, manly, and rather ordinary-looking, Hibari was clean-cut, precise, and probably stood out far too much in this crowded airport.

Even though he'd been working with Hibari for ten years now, he still knew as much about him as he'd known ten years ago. Well, perhaps, working' would be the wrong term to use, since they hardly saw each other at the Base, and rarely went on missions together. Hibari was just a mystery most of the time.

Somewhere in the corner of his mind, he thought that it might be amusing to work out a little more of that puzzle, during the mission at hand. It would be the perfect opportunity.

It was two weeks with Hibari Kyouya, after all.

Yamamoto remembered to keep his distance as they made it through check-in and down the long walkway that led to their gate. As a deal, he'd promised to not say so much as a single word during their entire trip, or come within five meters of his travelling companion, unless it was a life or death situation.

Even though he was used to Hibari's endless silence, it was more awkward than usual, perhaps due to the fact that they were surrounded by unfamiliar faces right and left. He wondered if Hibari was ever awkward about anything.

Probably not.

Thirty minutes later, he was able to let out a sigh of relief as he collapsed into his seat.

So far, so good. Hibari had managed to keep his annoyance in control, and all that was left was the twelve hour flight to JFK airport. The moment the plane doors were heaved shut with a loud fwoosh' and a clang', Yamamoto pulled the complimentary eye-mask out of the side pocket.

He'd stayed up most of the previous night reading through the material Tsuna had prepared for him, and not to mention that this way, he wouldn't bother Hibari in any shape or form.

His last glimpse of Hibari, before he snapped the mask over his eyes, was of an upright figure with his chin resting on his palm, looking out the small window with an unreadable expression.

And then everything went dark.

* * *

Evening had fallen, and the air was completely dark when they arrived in New York. Yamamoto had been fast asleep through the entire ride, and his stomach was starting to grown in complaint.

They had gone through customs, retrieved their bags, and were now standing in line for a taxi (a New York taxi - THE taxi, Yamamoto mused to himself).  
The November air was frigid and the thin coat he had on wasn't helping much in blocking the air from seeping into his skin.

Several more empty taxis drove up to the curb and the line inched forward.

He and Hibari, being first in line, picked up their luggage and stepped up to an empty taxi - of course, Yamamoto wasn't surprised when Hibari took the one ahead, leaving Yamamoto to take the one behind.

Quite honestly, he thought it was ridiculous that they were taking seperate cars, when they were on a mission _together_, but then again, what could he do?

The taxi door slammed firmly as soon as stuffed himself in, and he yanked out the paper with the address of the hotel Gokudera had booked for them.

Where to? the driver drawled, scratching a very scruffy beard.

Yamamoto squinted at the tiny print. "128 West 29th Street, Doubletree Hotel....?" He inwardly winced at the broken sound of his english.

The driver narrowed his eyes a bit impatiently, so he just pushed the paper forward and jabbed a finger at the address.

"Here."

And the taxi was off, not too far behind from Hibari's. He imagined Hibari had no trouble communicating the address, and felt a little dejected.

When they arrived, the driver smacked his gum loudly while pointing out the right amount of money.

"Take care now," he called, and drove away with a loud screech.

Hibari was already no where to be seen, and Yamamoto assumed that he'd gone in alone, so he picked up his bag and hurried towards the hotel entrance that sparkled with Christmas lights.

The insides were very bright, and very wooden. It wasn't that spacious, but clean and classy in a simple manner, which Yamamoto rather liked.

He cautiously approached the front desk where a lady was watching him with large blue, excessively mascaraed eyes.

"Welcome to DoubleTree Hotel, she greeted politely. Reservation?"

"Ah, yes," he nodded, and fumbled at the paper again. "Yamamoto Takeshi."

"Okay, just a moment please."

_Click, clickety-click. Click, click.  
_  
"Do you have ID with you today?" she asked, glancing up.

_Passport_, he said mentally, and jerked it out of his bag.

"Thank you."

After giving him back his passport, the lady placed a card key on top of a brochure, and slid it towards him across the counter.

"Your room will be a Jr. Suite with smoking, on the fifth floor. Room number 505. I hope you enjoy your stay with us, Mr. Yamamoto."

With her rouge smile painted firmly in his mind, Yamamoto thanked her and headed off for the elevator across the hall. It felt like ages before it finally arrived with a loud ping.

He didn't even know which room Hibari was staying in, which could make things a bit troublesome, he thought. He'd have to ask him tomorrow, if and when he was able to catch him.

Room 505 was at the end of the hallway, and he made his way there as fast as he could. His stomach was growling and his body was screaming for a hot shower.

He reached the door and clumsily slid the card into the lock, and pushed the heavy door open wide -

- to find Hibari standing right in the middle of the room, frozen in the process of loosening his tie.

The two stared at each other for a split second, completely bewildered.

Hibari was the first to recollect his composure as he dropped his hand from his collar.

"What do you think you're doing, barging into my room?" his voice was calm, yet very cold.

Yamamoto frowned.

_"Your_ room? But I just opened it with my key. This is supposed to be my room."

"How do you think I got in here, then?" asked Hibari, flicking out an identical card.

Yamamoto paused, his mind whirling in confusion.

"I think there's been a mistake. I'll just call the front desk and-" but before he could finish his sentence, Hibari was already striding towards the phone.

"There has been a mistake, he stated into the handset. You've given out two keys to the same room."

Hibari continued to briefly explain the situation, and then fell silent.

"I see," he finally said, and dropped the phone back into its cradle.

"...So?" Yamamoto prompted. "Is this room mine or yours?"

"When we return to Italy, remind me to deal with Gokudera Hayato."

"Huh?"

"It seems that there was only one Jr. Suite booked for this mission."

"One...?" he repeated, slowly. "You mean, one for... the both of us?"

"Must I repeat myself?"

"Oh."

Well, he couldn't be blamed for being absolutely dumbstruck about the turn of events. After all, it was just absurd. If it had been any other member of the team, he would have shrugged it off, but this was Hibari he was facing.

He glanced around the room. The suite itself was actually quite big, with a bedroom seperated from the room they were currently standing in.

There was a big screen television, a large window, a dining table, and - yes, a couch.

Hibari followed his gaze as Yamamoto took a step toward the couch.

"So I guess I'll just-"

"-sleep out in the hallway, of course," finished Hibari, cooly.

Yamamoto's head snapped back to gape at him in disbelief.

"Sorry, what? No!" he nearly laughed. "How can I sleep in the hallway?"

"If you disturb my sleep, I won't hesitate to kill you."

Saying that, Hibari made a swift turn and retreated into the bedroom, the door closing behind him with a satisfying smack.

Yamamoto ran a hand through his hair and sighed. There was no doubt that this was all Gokudera's doing. Perhaps it was payback for the time he'd accidentally locked Gokudera out of their double suite hotel room back in Rome. Perhaps he found it amusing to toss Yamamoto into a cage with Hibari, just to see how long he would last without being spliced to death by those beastly tonfas.

Either way, he knew he was going to send a complaint email to Gokudera that night, all in capital letters.

~*~*~*~*

He was finally able to collapse into bed (or rather, the couch) at midnight. He'd found the bar downstairs and had himself a sandwhich and a glass of wine, showered (he now smelled like hotel soap), and written two short emails; one to Tsuna, and one to Gokudera.

The sofa was small, but rather short, and his feet stuck out over the arm rest rather uncomfortably. And because Hibari had not so much as as offered any bedding, he was left to cover himself with his thin coat and bundle a sweatshirt under his head for a pillow.

At the moment, he was too tired to complain, but he could hardly imagine sleeping in this condition for two whole weeks. He'd try to reason with Hibari somehow tomorrow... maybe they could take turns every other night... maybe a miracle would happen and Hibari would agree...

Maybe...

To Be Continued...

AN: Thank you for reading this first chapter! The rest is already written, except for a few bits and pieces here and there.

Please do comment if you'd like to read more!


	2. Yamamoto's Wakeup Call

_AN: Thank you for your comments on Chapter 1!_

_I was unsure at first, so it' really heartwarming :)_

**Title**: Two Weeks With Hibari Kyouya

**Chapter**: 2

**By**: Shinra Bansho

**Disclaimer**: Applies to all characters that belong to their creators.

* * *

A sudden 'thwack' and a sharp pain to his head woke him up with a jolt. He instinctively reached for his Shigurekintoki, which he'd propped on the edge of the sofa last night.

He shot up and pulled the sword out of its sheath.

He came face to face with Hibari, who was leaning over him with his tonfas raised menacingly, and yelped.

"Who said you could sleep all day?" said Hibari, taking a step away and lowering his arms. "It's well past noon."

Yamamoto blinked heavily and glanced at the digital clock on the dining table. Hibari was right, it was twenty past twelve.

"Shoot," he said, carefully sliding his sword back. A dull pain stung his head, and he patted it delicately. "I appreciate the wake-up call, but did you really have to use those things?"

"What else could I have done?" Hibari asked, as if he considered waking people up with tonfas was the most normal act in the world. Or wait, maybe it was, for Hibari, at least.

Yamamoto closed his mouth in exasperation and heaved himself off the couch, shivering. Jet lag though he may have, his sleeping in was probably more due to the fact that he could hardly get any sleep that night. He'd waken up countless of times, shivering from the cold because the only 'blanket' he had was his coat, and he didn't dare turn the heater on, for fear that it would wake Hibari up.

And as if to prove that point, he let out a loud sneeze - which, Hibari chose to pointedly ignore.

One glance at Hibari told him that he'd already been out once. He was wearing his coat, and his cheeks were slightly pink, as if he'd only just come in from the cold air.

He couldn't help but feel a little guilty.

"I'm sorry," he said, honestly. Hibari merely slipped his tonfas back into the shadows of his sleeves.

"I was contacted by Irie Shouichi. He said that he caught another open track of the hackers, and it was from New York."

Yamamoto straightened. "Really? So we weren't mistaken."

"But even though the track was in this city, it was different from the track it left before, which means the culprit either never stays in one place, or they're using a defective track."

"The first track was located in this area, Chelsea, right?"

"Yes, but the recent one came from Soho. We'll need at least a few more tracks to really be sure."

That made sense. Yamamoto nodded, rubbing the old scar on his chin by habit.

"So basically, we have to wait," he finished, a little disappointed. If they were lucky, they could get their next order that same day, but if they weren't, it could be days, maybe weeks until they caught another track. He inwardly hoped that the hackers were a little desperate.

"This sure gives us a lot of time," he said, hoping to sound a bit cheerful. "What to do..."

Hibari snorted and began walking toward the door.

"It doesn't concern me whether you choose to waste your time or not, but I've got my own things to do, so please do not get in my way."

Sighing, Yamamoto shuffled over to the table and grabbed an apple out of the complimentary fruit basket and sat down. He unfolded the city map Tsuna had given him, and spread it wide across the wooden surface.

_Seriously, what to do._

He could wait patiently, inside the safety of the hotel, for Irie's message, or he could try to find a way to put his time to good use.

Like sniffing around the previous tracking areas for suspicious activity, or studying up a bit on system hacking, or concocting a plan on how to dig out the hackers when they did manage to pin their hideout down...

He bit into the apple thoughtfully, and noticed the clear juice dripping down his hand a moment too late, before it pattered down upon the map.

He hastily made to wipe it away but then noticed what his finger was hovering above.

Hm, or he could, you know.

Take a little stroll in Central Park.

~*~*~*~*

Central park was every bit like the park he'd imagined. It was huge, for one thing. If only there were parks this size in Namimori.

Compared to the parks in Japan, there seemed to be more freedom here.

He'd passed three guitarists, a chinese traditional dancer, cyclists and joggers, and a hot dog stand near the entrance (which he had stopped by, thanks to his growling stomach).

It was a shame that the leaves were all gone from the forest of trees, though. He imagined how nice it would be to come here in the spring, when all the flowers were in bloom. Or perhaps summer, when it was hot and he could flop on the cool grass for a nap.

He never really liked winter anyway, partly because it was so cold, and partly because it wasn't baseball season.

However, regardless of the fact that it wasn't baseball season, there was a kid and his dad, running around in the large patches of dirt up ahead, playing catch.

The kid would giggle loudly each time the ball missed his mitt hit the ground with a dull thud. It made Yamamoto smile.

He was unaware that his own hand was swinging lightly at his side, gripping an invisible bat.

_Ah, baseball._

*~*~*~*~

That evening (it had somehow become dark as he was strolling up and down the streets of the neighborhood), he returned to the Hotel to find Hibari at the dining table, typing away at his laptop, with a half-empty cup of coffee.

He didn't even look up when Yamamoto came in, though his fingers paused for just a second.

"Anything interesting happen today?" Yamamoto chirped, unwinding his wool scarf.

"Yes, thank you, though unlike you, I was working."

Yamamoto chuckled, "Who said I wasn't working?"

No answer.

"Did you eat yet?" he continued, tossing his coat on the edge of the couch. "'Cause I'm starving."

"Then eat."

"But what about you? Aren't you hungry?"

"No."

Shrugging, he picked up the bag of shopping he'd done, and strolled into the small space behind the bar counter, where a microwave sat invitingly. He tore the box off the dinner and placed it inside.

He reached out to press the buttons but paused, squinting at the labels.

Darnit, they were all in English.

Well duh. They were in America.

It was no secret that Yamamoto's least favorite subject in school had been English. English wasn't a physical subject. It didn't require to use your body to think. Unless it was a line in the textbook, talking about baseball, it would go in one ear and out the other.

"Why are there no pictures?" he muttered under his breath, mentally sounding out the letters 't-h-a-w'....

There was a scrape of wood against wood, a soft patter of feet, and a finger, that invaded his vision out of nowhere.

"You were really only competent when it came to baseball, weren't you."

The pale finger pressed the button to the far left and the microwave buzzed to life.

"Oh, thanks, Hibari," Yamamoto said, grinning and straightening up. "Unfortunately, not all of us were born geniuses like you." He waved to the bag on the counter. "I've bought enough for two, you sure you don't want one?"

Hibari returned to the table and closed the lid of the laptop.

"I still have work to do." And with that, he walked back to the bedroom and closed the door.

_Great_, thought Yamamoto, just as the microwave gave a loud beep. It looked like he'd missed the chance to talk with Hibari about the couch-issue.

He just hoped that tonight would be a little more warmer than the previous.

Surprisingly, five nights and six days had passed like this.

Though Tsuna sent emails everyday, and called every two days, there was still no message from Irie himself.

Yamamoto hadn't gone out 'exploring' since his day at Central Park, and had stayed cooped up in the hotel for the most part, save for the trips to the nearby stores for food and the daily coffee from Starbucks.

It wasn't like he had to stay indoors - he had a cell phone and if something happened, he'd be contacted straight away, but due to his lack of English skills, and planning skills, it rather stressed him out to go wandering in an unknown land.

For dinner, he'd either been going down to the grille inside the hotel, or ordering room service, whereas Hibari seemed to be feeding himself when he was outdoors. Yamamoto assumed that it was mainly because he didn't like spending time with people. He hadn't even had the chance to see Hibari eat a single meal, much less a fruit from the table basket.

He remembered how he'd thought this would be the perfect opportunity to learn more about his mysterious companion, but from the looks of it, it seemed rather far-fetched and idea now.

These past few days, Yamamoto had been trying to busy himself with anything remotely related to work as well. He'd asked Tsuna to send more information on the system and the hacking process, but it was but most of it was beyond his ability to compute. He did understand, however, that twice, the system had been hacked in Japanese - so it was obvious someone Japanese, or someone who was fairly competent in the language.

Speaking of Japanese, Yamamoto's mouth was starting to ache for rice. He'd been eating grilled salmon, grilled steak, grilled this and that, and bread, bread, bread, for the most part. Yamamoto really liked his rice and miso soup. He had it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner when he could, back at home. He also had a strong hunger for sushi - if only he could find decent fish, he'd make it himself, but there weren't any fish shops near by and he didn't have a rice cooker, obviously.

He wondered what Hibari was eating everyday... or perhaps he was living off of coffee and alcohol. Wasn't Hibari always drinking sake back at home? He was sure the sullen guy couldn't go for days without it.

_Okay, stop thinking about it_, he told himself, picking at the peas in his room service dinner. When he got back to the Base, he'd treat himself to as much raw fish and gleaming white rice as he wanted.

Finishing the plate, he poured himself a cup of instant coffee and turned on the television. Of course he couldn't understand what was being said, but lately, because he had way too much time on his hands, he was beginning to attempt picking up English phrases here and there.

The weather channel was easy enough to understand, of course. There were _pictures. _

"Now for the weather forecast-" said the dark-haired man on the screen. "We've had a fair week so far, but it'll get pretty darn chilly tonight - possibly in the low tens, or at freezing level, so if you're going out, make sure to bundle up well. Tomorrow, the weather should should get warmer, but there will be a chance of rain in the morning followed by low clouds and a gust of wind from the north. Next, your weekend forecast...."

Yamamoto groaned at the numbers on the screen. The past nights had been bad as it already was, and he honestly didn't know if he could survive through anything colder.

At half-past ten, Hibari came in, looking like a ruffle bird in his scarf and his windswept hair. A chuckle escaped him.

Hibari ignored him as usual and went straight to the bedroom.

Yamamoto caught a glimpse of Hibari's fingers as he swept by him, and saw that they looked painfully red from the cold.

"You want some coffee, Hibari?"

He asked this every day but had never received a positive reply, and didn't expect one today either.

Hibari reemerged from the other room a few minutes later with a bundle of clothing tucked under his arm. Yamamoto blinked. It was the first time Hibari was taking a shower while Yamamoto was there.

_It must've been really cold, _he thought, looking out the pitch black window.

Right before the door to the bathroom clicked shut, Hibari paused.

"Coffee would be nice," - and he was gone from sight.

It took a few seconds before the words sunk into Yamamoto's brain, and when they did, he nearly jumped up in surprise.

"Coffee, got it," he grinned and went to the electric pot to re-heat the water. He couldn't quite understand why but for some very new and odd reason, he was extremely happy at Hibari's words. It was the first time he'd been asked for anything.

He grabbed a clean white mug off the counter and carefully dumped two spoonfuls of coffee grain into it. Be it instant or not, he wanted to make a damn good coffee in celebration.

Twenty minutes later, Hibari emerged from the bathroom, his face slightly pink and a cream-colored towel dangling around his shoulders.

Yamamoto did a double-take when he saw what Hibari was wearing under that.

"You're wearing that here too?" he couldn't stop himself from asking with widened eyes. He looked pointedly at the nemaki (well, it was basically a dark kimono).

"Why wouldn't I?" asked Hibari, scrubbing at his hair with the corner of the towel. "You're Japanese too, it's not like you haven't seen one in your life."

"But isn't it kind of cold in that? It's November."

"That's why there are things called 'blankets'", Hibari replied, a little sarcastically, and to which Yamamoto scowled, because well, HE didn't have any blankets, thank you very much.

"Coffee," he said, almost forgetting about the freshly poured cup on the table.

It was odd how he was a little bit anxious as he watched Hibari pick up the cup with both hands and take a small sip, _very small_, as if he were checking for poison.

"Good, right?" he said, smiling.

Hibari returned a wry smile.

"Well, it would be harder to make bad coffee, when it's _instant_, wouldn't you say?"

"Oh come on, it wouldn't hurt to be a little more appreciative, would it?" Yamamoto shook his head. "Good night!" he called, when the other turned around to leave without another word.

The news reporter hadn't been lying.

That night, it was far colder than it had been any other night, and though the walls of the hotel kept the wind out, with the heater turned off, it was cold enough that he could see his own breath.

He lay there on the couch, wrapped in three layers of sweaters and coats and his scarf tied firmly around his neck, but nothing seemed to work.

After about half an hour of tossing and turning and rubbing his hands together, he got up with a huge sigh and went to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee.

As he reached over the counter for his cup, he caught sight of a paper bag sitting near the wall and out of curiosity, bent to open it.

Inside was a bottle of nihonshu, called Otokoyama. He gulped.

Ah, how heavenly it would be to warm his body with a douse of sake.

He remained squatted for a few minutes, weighing th pros and cons of opening a bottle of Hibari's sake, but his chattering teeth got the better of his conscience and he unscrewed the top with a loud crack.

The sweet smell of sake wafted to his nose and he smiled dreamily. He would just buy Hibari a new bottle tomorrow, from wherever he'd managed to buy this. It would be no problem.

Besides, he would only have a cup or two - enough to warm him from the inside out.

He took the bottle over to the couch and poured himself a meager cup before huddling into the mound of coats.

"Here's to... Vongola," he whispered, raising his cup. He took a deep swig.

_Shit_. He'd never tasted such good sake in his entire life.

Otokoyama wasn't a gourmet sake or anything - quite cheap and bland in taste, actually - but tonight, it tasted like the hundred thousand yen sake he'd promised Hibari back home.

"God I love you, Otokoyama."

He poured himself another cup, slightly more generous than the first, and downed it in three gulps.

Slowly, and very surely, he was feeling the pit of his stomach grow hot, and the heat spread through the veins in his body, one by one. The feeling was extraordinary. He was so immersed in his cup, that he had long since lost track of the time, and the digital numbers on the clock seemed a bit blurry.

He rubbed his eyes and glanced down at the brown bottle on the coffee table. He reached down to tip it and realized that he'd drunk half the bottle already.

Maybe he'd gone a little overboard... It'd been a while since he'd had strong alcohol and it seemed to be having more of an effect on him then he'd expected.

Bathroom, and then sleep, he thought, and heaved himself off the couch - nearly falling over in the process.

_Ugh_, he was a lot more drunk than he'd intended to become.

He steadied himself and tried to make his way toward the bathroom.

The bathroom light nearly blinded him when he switched it on, but it was still humid and a bit warm from Hibari's shower. He'd take a shower now too, except for the fact that it'd probably wake the sleeping dragon up...

Yamamoto frowned.

Why did he have to worry so much about that anyway? It was kind of silly, to be quite honest. Why did he have to be so cautious around Hibari? Hibari was an adult, he wasn't the kid who used to go around Namimori Jr. High, smacking things right and left with his tonfas. Would he really kill Yamamoto if he turned on the heater on a night like this?

Perhaps due to the sake, Yamamoto's head was swirling with things he'd usually kept silent about, and pushed to the back of his mind.

The more he thought about the unfairness of the situation, the more he felt disgruntled, and the more he felt confident that he wasn't wrong in thinking these things.

"That's it, I'm asking him to turn on the heater, dammit" he grumbled to himself, finishing his bathroom business and washing his hands sloppily.

He didn't even bother to dry his hands before zig-zagging his way towards the bedroom where Hibari was probably already fast asleep.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked once, but got no answer.

"Hibari? I'm coming in-" he slurred.

The door clicked open as he turned the cold knob and he was met with pitch-blackness.

"Hibari?" he whispered hoarsely. No reply.

He inched forward, step by cautious step and looked around.

The room seemed pretty big, from what he could see.

The bed was placed in the middle of the floor and he could just make out a narrow lump that was Hibari.

The king-size bed looked like an island compared to the couch he'd been squashed in for the past few nights.

"How is that fair?" he mumbled, and started for the walls in search of the heater panel.

For some odd reason, after quite a bit of pantomiming against the vast surface, he couldn't find the dang thing. His annoyance was probably at its peak right now, what with his hands and fingers getting colder by the second, and his companion sound asleep in a large, warm, fluffy king-size bed.

Large.... Warm.... Fluffy....

His eyes watered just at the thought of snuggling deep into those covers.

He stood against the wall for a few minutes, to keep himself from falling over, and listened to the steady inhale and exhale of the sleeping form.

The sound was soft and very comforting to Yamamoto's ears.

Sleep was starting to threaten his consciousness, and his eyelids began growing heavier and heavier.

He'd already drank half of Hibari's sake, right? A little more damage wouldn't kill him, right?

Or so he hoped, as his legs almost carried him automatically to the unoccupied side of the bed. He squirmed his way in as soundlessly as he could and was met with a feeling of bliss nearly matching that of his first cup of Otokoyama, and buried his face deep into the covers.

The last thought that crossed his woozy mind, as he began to drift off, was a prayer, that come tomorrow morning, he wouldn't find himself dead.

To Be Continued...

_AN: Please do leave a comment and tell me your thoughts if you enjoyed :D_

_It really motivates me!_

_Thank you in advance._


	3. Hibari, The Sadist

**Two Weeks With Hibari Kyouya**

**By**: Shinra Bansho

Chapter Three

_Disclaimer: Characters belong to their rightful owners. This is a fan-written story._

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An unfamiliar kind of warmth woke Yamamoto up the next morning. Or was it morning? He couldn't quite tell, because his eyelids were shut and the soft duvet was heavenly, wrapped around him.

He nuzzled his face deeper into the pillow until his nose brushed against something solid.

_Mmm..._ the smell of soap, and warm skin, and laundered clothing and -

_What?_

His eyes snapped open as if a cold bucket of water had been splashed onto his face.

His vision was greeted by a mass of black hair, and an exposed patch of skin, which Yamamoto realized a moment later, was the nape of a pale neck.

And it was much too late, when he finally grasped the fact that he was sleeping against the back of Hibari Kyouya.

What had he done? He tried to recall the events of last night, and sluggishly, his memory began to return to him, one by one.

He'd tried to sleep on the couch, but found it too cold, so stole half of Hibari's sake, then proceeded to invade Hibari's bed, and just to make matters worse, he was practically _spooning_ the latter, and nuzzling his neck like it was the most normal situation in the world.

First off, he needed to think calmly.

Okay, he needed to sneak out of the bed without Hibari noticing (thank god he'd woken up before the other), and get back into the main room noiselessly. Was that even possible? He had no idea, but if he'd been able to climb into the bed without waking him, then there had to be a chance that he could climb out safely too.

He held his breath as he tried to twist first his head around, and then the rest of his body - but right at that moment, the bed creaked and Hibari let out a sigh.

_Shit, shit. _

Yamamoto froze and prayed fiercely.

Luckily, Hibari hadn't woken, it seemed - but just to be safe, he knew he should probably wait a few seconds before making another attempt.

The next moment, the dreaded happened.

Hibari gave a large turn from his side position and in the process, swung out his right arm which collided much too nicely with Yamamoto's nose.

Yamamoto couldn't hold back the hiss of pain that escaped through his lips and he cupped his nose tenderly, his eyes watering.

The bed gave another sudden loud creak and he opened his tearing eyes to see Hibari's eyes opening in a synchronized movement. Their brown eyes met just for a split second.

The rest was a blur, or cloth, skin, and silver - which he instinctively ducked with all his might. He managed to avoid it but tipped backward and fell off the bed and onto the carpeted floor with a dull thud.

"Wait, wait!" he stammered, urgently, scrambling to get up and wincing at the sharp throb in his nose.

Hibari's figure loomed over the side of the bed, his eyes aflame and his tonfas raised in battle-mode.

"Wait! I can explain!" he yelped again, shielding his arm out in front of him.

"What...are you doing...in my bed." Hibari bit out slowly and menacingly. "I don't recall giving you permission to enter uninvited."

Yamamoto stumbled to his feet.

"Don't get hasty, Hibari, just hear me out, okay? It was really, really cold last night, and so I tried to warm up with a drink or two, but I drank a little too much and I ended up here because it looked big enough for the two of us. That's all, I'm sorry!"

Hibari's eyes narrowed slightly.

"You drank?"

Yamamoto began to nod, but then groaned and slapped his palm to his head.

_Oh god. _

_Stupid Otokoyama._

He was never going to drink it again, even if his life depended on it.

"Hey, I'm sorry, Hibari - but what could I do? You won't turn on the heat during the night, and you hog the bed," he said, trying to justify himself.

Yamamoto watched the tonfas fearfully, but was surprised when they were lowered.

"Hibari?" he asked, uncertainly.

Hibari simply straightened his kimono and stepped off the bed.

"Whatever," he said in a low voice. "I'm going out."

"Now? But it's -" Yamamoto glanced at the clock on the bedside table. "Still seven!"

Hibari didn't answer as he snatched his clothing from the neatly folded stack on the dresser and left the room swiftly.

"Ugh..." said Yamamoto, into his palm, both from the feel of regret in the pit of his stomach, and the slight headache that was seeping in from his temples.

_Tsuna, help._

_~*~*~*~*~_

As if his prayers had been heard, his mobile rang not long after that.

He was at the kitchen table with his laptop, looking up stores around the vicinity that might sell Japanese sake.

It was Tsuna.

"Tsuna!" he exclaimed, almost too happily.

"_Yamamoto, how are you?_" the kind voice on the other end said. "_How's Hibari?_"

Yamamoto shook his head and groaned.

"Tsuna.... Help me. I think I may be dead."

"_What? What's wrong, Yamamoto? Is everything alright??_"

"Well," he sighed. "I'm not dead _yet_, but I may be very soon. Is Gokudera there?"

"_Gokudera? Yes he's in the library. Should I get him?_" asked Tsuna, worriedly.

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, yes..." he replied.

"_Okay, hold on._"

The line went on hold for a minute. He wasn't sure whether he had anything to really say to Gokudera, but he needed someone to blame for all this. Well, technically, it wasn't Gokudera's fault that he'd drunk Hibari's sake and got into his bed but-

The line clicked and Gokudera's rough voice came through.

"_What do you want?_" He sounded rather annoyed, as usual.

"Hey, Gokudera," he greeted. "How's the back doing?"

"I_t's none of your business,_" Gokudera replied coolly. "_If you've got nothing important to say, I'm-_"

"Why'd you play such a childish prank on us, Gokudera?" Yamamoto asked hastily.

A pause.

"_What'd you mean?_"

Yamamoto rolled his eyes.

"You know what I mean. You stuck me in the same room as Hibari. Honestly, I feel like a feeble sheep thrown in a cage with a wolf."

"_Ha, that just goes to show that you're weak,_" snorted Gokudera. "_And besides, it's normal to share a room. Don't go wasting Tenth's money on your little issues of insecurity._"

He couldn't deny that it was unusual to get separate hotel rooms but...

"This is Hibari we're talking about. It's a miracle I haven't been bashed to death yet..." he said. "Would you be able to do it?"

Another pause.

"_No._"

"Haha, see?" he laughed.

"_Is it really that bad?_"

"Well, to be honest, it was surprisingly okay for the first few days... but I may have totally screwed things last night."

"_You ass, what'd you do?_" he tried to ignore the glee in Gokudera's tone.

"Ah... stuff."

"_Oh come on, don't be a party pooper._"

"I didn't get you on the phone to share my near-death experiences. I got you on the phone to make you apologize for your childish prank," he said, patronizingly. "So let's hear it. Say, 'Yamamoto, I'm sorry for nearly killing you.'"

"_Haha, no way,_" snickered Gokudera. "_Good luck with our Hiba-rin. If you manage to come back in one piece, I'll treat you to dinner or something._"

With that, the phone clicked, and Tsuna was back on the line.

"_Is everything alright?_"

"I guess... though if I'm going to die, I'd rather not die here, alone," he said in half-jokingly.

Tsuna seemed to take that remark to heart though.

"_Yamamoto, don't say stuff like that._"

A beep, followed by a series of clicks came from the door, and Hibari came in, carrying a large envelope in one arm and a shopping bag in the other.

"I didn't mean it seriously, Tsuna," he said, watching Hibari out of the corner of his eye. "Of course I won't die. No one's gonna die."

"_I know._"

Yamamoto cleared his throat.

"Well I can't wait to see your face Tsuna, I can't believe it's only been a week... Feels like it's been a year. Want any souvenirs? Like a Statue of Liberty lighter? Or a mousepad of the Empire State building?" he asked cheerfully, changing the subject. Hibari was now pouring himself a cup of coffee as he waited for his laptop to start up. "Or I could get you a Yankees cap!"

"_No, don't worry about me. Just make sure to come home safely, okay?_"

"Yeah, of course I will." A soft smile spread across his face. "Make sure Gokudera doesn't get into any trouble at the Base, yeah?"

"_Haha, he's always in the Study these days. I keep telling him to rest, but he goes on about being my right arm and how he mustn't waste time. Honestly._"

"Am I the only one that isn't a workaholic here?" he chuckled.

"_I'm the one who's doing the least out of everyone,_" Tsuna said apologetically. "_I should really take a leaf out of your books. Anyways, just keep an eye out for Irie's message. He's another workaholic that's been cooped up in the system room for the past few weeks, but he seems pretty confident that we'll get another track soon._"

Yamamoto nodded. "Let's hope he's right. In the meantime, Hibari and I will be alright so don't worry about us. Just worry about being the great boss you are, Tsuna."

"_Don't call me that,_" Tsuna laughed. "_Okay, well give my regards to Hibari-san too._"

"Bye Tsuna."

He switched off the phone and stuffed it into the chest pocket of his jacket.

"Welcome home, Hibari," he said, walking over to the table.

"Did you come all the way to New York to buy souvenirs for your cute girlfriend?" Hibari smirked, looking up.

"Wh- Of course not, but who wouldn't want a souvenir from New York? Especially if it's a Yankees cap?" He started to make himself his own cup of coffee.

"I wouldn't."

Rolling his eyes, he took a seat across the table. "Of course you wouldn't. You hate baseball, don't you."

".... I don't hate it."

He looked up, surprised. "You don't? That's news to me."

"I rather liked the sound steel makes when it hits something hard. Though if they used humans instead of balls, it would make things even more interesting," Hibari said matter-of-factly.

"You're such a sadist, Hibari."

The two fell silent for a while, save only for the sound of Hibari's deft fingers on the keys, and his own sipping. He realized that he'd never really watched Hibari up close for long period of time - or perhaps it was more that Hibari had never let him.

Today, he wasn't glaring at him for sitting at the same table, or emitting don't-come-near-me auras, so Yamamoto took the chance to quietly observe the other.

Hibari was really one of a kind, he thought. He hated to horde with people, didn't show his face much at the Base, but still remained loyal to them, in a strange way. He didn't have to stay with them. He didn't have to fight with them... and yet, he did. For the most part.

When they were at the Base, Hibari kept to his own private space which Yamamoto had only been to once. The room had been arranged Japanese style, complete with tatami mats, zabuton, and bonsai plants.

Since Yamamoto had grown up as the son of a sushi chef, the scenery had felt very familiar to him. He'd even imagined how he might enjoy a cup of sake there, in the moonlight, listening to the sound of crickets and cicadas in the summer night.

Was Hibari never lonely? He wondered that too. He would probably be lonely himself, if he were alone all the time.

Hibari never showed any of those emotions on his face. Contempt? Yes. Annoyance? Yes. Anger? Sometimes - but never sadness, or happiness, or fear.

Even now, as Hibari got up to pour himself a cup of coffee, his features were unreadable. Was it calculated? Yamamoto had no idea.

The only times he'd really seen Hibari smile was when Reborn had offered to have a duel with him, and back then, he remembered that he'd been taken aback by the rarity of it... and by the way Hibari looked when his thin lips had parted slightly and turned upward, just faintly.

Hibari was handsome in his own way, and the usually somber face had looked even more so in that instant. It had never really left Yamamoto's mind.

He didn't realize he'd been staring so hard, but Hibari seemed to have.

"Is there something on my face?" he asked.

Yamamoto's eyes snapped wide open in surprise and he accidentally kicked the table leg as he tried to sit up.

The table jerked forward and hit Hibari's elbow - the one holding the fresh cup of coffee, and hot brown liquid came splashing out like a fountain.

Yamamoto swore loudly, his chair clattering to the ground as he hurried to rush around the table.

"Are you okay?" he panicked, seeing that the coffee had made a direct hit on Hibari's exposed wrist, since he'd had his sleeves rolled up. He grabbed the thin hand and turned it over, to check for burns.

"You idiot, let go-" Hibari said, but a shadow of a wince flashed across his eyes, which Yamamoto caught.

"Come to the bathroom," he said urgently, pulling the hand gently behind him.

"I said, let go. I can do it myself."

Yamamoto ignored the complaint as they entered the bathroom. He started up the water and pushed Hibari's hand under the icy jet.

"Ngh," Hibari let out a small noise, and looked away. "You idiot, that hurts."

"We need to cool it. Otherwise it'll swell," said Yamamoto. "Hold it there for sec. Let me look for some ointment."

He began opening the cabinets inside the bathroom, finding a tower of toilet paper rolls, folded towels, complimentary toothbrushes, and-

He opened the last cabinet and found a white first aid box.

"Ah, this is it."

He took it down and propped it open, digging around for whatever might help a burn.

He heard a snort to his side.

"Can you even read any of those?"

Yamamoto paused, and biting his lip. He hated to admit it but-

"No."

"What great help you are."

With his right arm still in the sink, Hibari bent over and began to rummage inside the kit. After a moment, he pulled a small tube out.

"Here, give it," Yamamoto said, reaching his hand out.

"I can do it myself," Hibari replied, jerking away, but Yamamoto swiftly snatched the tube (thank you, baseball reflexes), and began unscrewing the plastic top.

"Hold out your right arm," he said gently.

After a moment of silence, Hibari hesitantly removed his arm from the spray and brought it out in front of him, but not out far enough to make Yamamoto's job any easier.

"I'm really sorry, Hibari," he said as he stooped over closer to reach the burn. The area of skin had become quite red, although it wasn't swelling. "Does it hurt?"

"No."

He squeezed some of the thick, clear ointment out of the thin tube and after softly patting the skin dry with a piece of cotton, blew on it and proceeded to spread it carefully and evenly.

He felt a small shiver run through Hibari's arm and looked up for just a moment. Hibari's were closed, his long dark eyelashes hovering over his pale cheeks.

Swallowing, he squeezed another helping of ointment and lathered it on the bits he'd missed.

"Do you always look after everyone like this?"

"Huh?" he raised his head. Hibari's eyes were now open and he was looking at him with an illegible expression. "Oh, nah. I'm not too good with taking care of people, to be honest."

He let out a small laugh and stood up.

"I can't even take care of myself much, to begin with."

Hibari didn't return the laugh, but just raised an eyebrow. He seemed to be waiting for something.

"Yeah?"

Hibari's eyes traveled down pointedly, and Yamamoto followed his gaze to see that he was still holding Hibari's hand in his own. His larger fingers were wrapped around Hibari's thin ones protectively, almost.

"Oh, right," he said, and let go. The empty air that replaced the hand was almost too cold. He gripped his fist shut.

To hide the unrest in his face, he busied himself in returning the first aid kit to the cabinet. When he was done and turned around, Hibari was already gone.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily.

_To be continued..._

*~*~*~*

_Thanks for reading chapter three!_

_It's a little shorter, but I couldn't cut it off after this, so I hope you'll forgive me :)_

_Thank you for your comments and your subscriptions!_

_I hope to read more of your thoughts for this chapter too._


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